#Casper the friendly ghost exists

[deadsetobsessions]

Writing Prompt… kind of? Definitely write more if you want but this was a cute little “fic starter” that popped into my mind.

——

Danny didn’t know the first thing about art. This is an important fact.

“Sam, why am I even here?”

“Suck it up, Casper.”

“The show or the school?” Danny privately thought Casper the Friendly Ghost was the best thing to have come around. It did wonders for improving relations between Amity and inhabitants of the Zone.

Sam smacked him on the arm. “You know which one. You’re just here to be the normie judge. You don’t need to know anything about art.”

“Everyone here is like an art acolyte or something, Sam! I’m an engineering newb in a room full of people with art PhDs!”

Sam rolled her eyes and checked her manicures. “If you call Fenton Works newb level, then the rest of the world would be Neanderthals. Seriously that’s why you’re here. The art’s gotta appeal to the untrained eyes too. I trust your judgement.”

Danny gave in. “Thanks, Sam. That means a lot.” He followed after Sam but after a moment, he whined, “But couldn’t you have taken Tucker? Dude’s got four untrained eyes!”

“He’s busy with his internship. And you were already in Gotham.”

They reach the exhibition, Sam and Danny being welcomed in. Sam’s parents, while not the richest of the rich, were known art connoisseurs and respected people in the communities that dotted around the world. On top of being the descendants of the man that invented the deli toothpick cellophane twirling device, that is. Sam was standing in their place today- begrudgingly- because they’d promised to pay for an entire month of Gotham architecture tours and a trip to Japan. After all, Sam had much of their knowledge too. If anyone could say anything about the Masons, it was that they were passionate in their chosen field. L

“The contestants are in the room next door. The judge panel is beginning.” The person at the door informed them. He gave them a slip of paper and a pen to mark their choices in each field. Danny breathed a sigh of relief and began wandering around.

After he wandered between the oil paintings- “oo, this one. Reason why… the vibes are nostalgic. I like it.”- and the various depictions of a specific ship, Danny was pulled to a stop by his core reaching out. He looked up and what he saw took his breath away.

It was just a photo.

But it felt like he was there, on that rooftop, crouched among the shadows and watching the early rays of muffled light hit the tops of his city. His core thrummed. It felt like protection. It felt like he was being fulfilled, like Danny was once more becoming Phantom and that he was watching over this city he’s beginning to understand.

Danny, almost fevered, scribbled down the name [A Robin’s Nest- by Tim Drake] as his number one choice to win the contest over all. And, at least, to win the first in the photography division.

——

“Oh, Ancients, are you okay?”

Danny had wandered around in the interim as the votes were tallied. He hadn’t been paying attention when he smacked into a little kid that could have been his little brother.

“Uhm. I’m good.”

Danny helped the kid up. “I’m Danny. I’m sorry I smacked into you. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yeah. I’m Timothy Drake. I’m good.”

Danny’s smile widened in shock. “Like the photographer? Oh, wow! I really loved that photo! It was amazing! It felt like I was up there with the vigilantes!”

As he spoke, Danny glanced around for the kid’s designated adults. Hm. That’s odd. Everyone and their parental figure was accounted for.

“Oh.” Timothy flushed. “Thanks! I hoped the judges liked it too.”

Danny smiled, a small secretive thing. “Oh, I’m sure they will. Will you tell me more about your photography?”

“Oh, if you want!”

——

[mpsansy]

Don't know why I'm getting shy about giving the ghostly trio personality and depth. I guess I'm just trying my best to make them a decent mixture of good and bad.

I don't want to make them overly nice. They're still jerks to many, but my god I want to show willing eyes that these ghosts are quite charming. Individually imperfect, yet deeply human at the end of the day.

Also I just want this whole family to go through changes as well because they can.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hey so like is it okay to make a request with Yandere Twst boys of your choice with a reader who’s like Casper the friendly ghost?

Friendly Ghost Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

As it’s well known ghosts exist in Twisted Wonderland and they’re usually quite friendly…once you get to know them that is. To most ghosts with no ambition to work a specific job they’ll enjoy scaring the living beings. But unlike them you prefer not to. Only hoping to make friends despite your undead state. You don’t remember much about your past but you do know you like making friends which makes you a prime target for those deeply in-love with you:

Lilia Vanrouge

“There you are, (Y/n)! Would you like to cook with me?”

“Oh uh sure! We’re…not feeding anyone else right?”

“Yup!”

“Then let’s go!”

Lilia enjoys how sweet you can be and how gullible

What would usually be clingy works perfectly for him

Though he’ll make sure your busy when he’s massacring those interested in exploiting you for social media

Kalim Al Asim

“Wow so you don’t mind if we just stay up and then party the next day?”

“I mean sure as long as it’s okay with you. That doesn’t sound all too healthy–”

“Yay! Let’s keep going (Y/n)!”

He doesn’t have an ounce of fear when meeting you

Finding love in someplace unknown

He does start to think about a future with you

And he worries about you moving on when it happens to come up in conversation

So he decides that he’ll have to find someway to keep you a ghost until he can get there

But don’t worry the Asim family has plenty of riches and enchanted items

Surely one of them can keep your soul close by

[swoodthis]

Hello, hello!

Do you have favourite versions of Ganondorf, Link, and Zelda? :)

Wind Waker Link is so TINY and FLUFFY, I want to just pick him up and hold him! But TP Link has DOG MODE. Also BotW/TotK Link is so expressive and dorky and his wholesome food excitement AUGH!

Zeldas… Tetra is a pirate and Sheik is a ninja and I find that INCREDIBLY awesome. Minish Cap Zelda is a gremlin, which I REALLY appreciate. BotW/TotK Zelda is such a wholesome science bean, her lab with the pictures of her the Hateno kids drew in TotK melted me into a puddle of goooooo!!! But I gotta say, I think my FAVORITE is Spirit Tracks Zelda. Friggin. Casper the Friendly Ghost baby. She is SO WHOLESOME.

I cling desperately to Wind Waker Ganondorf’s possible hint at implications that things aren’t as “light good dark bad, it’s all predestined, no thinking allowed” as they seem… and seeing Hyrule Warriors’ Fluffydorf excitedly kicking open a chest is weirdly heartwarming to me because this guy literally exists to get dogpiled on by divine wrath, and he finally gets SOMETHING. But HOW could I not talk about Cadence of Hyrule’s little Tinydorf!! He’s BABY! And the ending implies that he’s SAVED FROM TURNING INTO GANON?! YES!?!?!!! Also the Gerudo in that game sound like they’re from Texas and I headcanon he sounds like Bobby Hill.

[dawnbreakersgaze]

🪻Spring time in Linkon with Dr. Greyson🪻

Means lots of café dates, concerts (classical and contemporary), indoor rock climbing, shopping trips, and pretty much anything else that keeps you two out of the chilly wind and pollen. This is the time of year when Grey looks a bit like Casper the friendly ghost, due to spending the majority of winter cooped up at Akso (as winter is the busiest season for our poor medical folk) and spring not quite having enough warm days yet to really get out and get a ton of sun. This time of year, however, is when he's at his most colourful- a bit like a bird lol. He's sick of the drab colours of the post holiday winter scene and breaks out all his brightest pieces. You'll get to see the whole wide range of his wardrobe as the days of spring temps swing from bitter cold to comfortably warm.

Enjoy your café date with Grey! Tell him he looks handsome in every colour of the rainbow and he'll turn this lovely shade of red for you (which he also happens to look fantastic in!) ☺️ Link here to see the file in all it's detailed glory 🔗🔗🔗

Life has given me quite a beating lately so I've been doing some proper adulting by ~ignoring it~ and painting. Since I wanted to paint the spring set before next spring actually rolled around and the perfect opportunity came up, I thought why not? The background is ripped straight from the game bc no way in hell was I doing another one so soon though 🥴

The pin on Grey's lapel is from an org called Kids With Heart, a non profit that helps families that have or have lost children with congenital heart defects- the same kinds of kids Zayne's program (and by extension, Greyson) works with. I'd like to think that an org like that still exists in the future, and that Akso is a program partner ❤️‍🩹

Anyway I hope yall enjoy~

[connectparanormal]

The Influence of Casper on the Perception of Ghosts

In the 1930s, Seymour Reit and Joe Oriolo are credited with creating the character of Casper the Friendly Ghost, which has had a huge impact on how people in popular culture view ghosts. With his round, white shape and benign temperament, this cartoonish character stands in stark contrast to the generally fearsome representations of spirits in mythology and literature. He has a persona that is reminiscent of a cartoon character. One of Casper's most significant contributions to the evolution of the concept of ghosts was the realization that not all spirits are evil or frightening. Casper's character is portrayed as a gentle and lonely ghost who only wants to make friends, in contrast to the chain-rattling and moaning specters that are typically found in traditional ghost stories. For children, this image has humanized ghosts, making them more approachable and less scary.

The character's popularity, which reached its zenith in the 1950s and 1960s with a plethora of comic books and animated cartoons, contributed to the introduction of a more humorous approach to the depiction of supernatural topics in the media. Thus, other family-friendly ghost stories and characters were created, and it continues to influence ghosts in children's entertainment today. Casper's power goes far beyond altering people's perceptions of ghosts. The figure has also contributed to conversations regarding the nature of the afterlife, the idea of unfinished business, and the thought that even after death, a person's identity and soul are still intact. The presentation of these subjects in a manner that is child-friendly has made it possible for younger audiences to get an understanding of more complicated concepts like death and the supernatural. Over several decades, the character's enduring popularity has led to numerous adaptations. A 1995 live-action film introduced Casper to a new generation as one of these adaptations. The basic premise is given additional levels of complexity by these contemporary interpretations frequently investigate more profound topics, such as the origins of the ghost and the meaning of his existence. The concept of a "friendly ghost," which is frequently used as a point of reference when characterizing supernatural creatures that do not pose a threat, has been inextricably linked to the character of Casper in popular culture. This fact has influenced the portrayal of ghosts in various forms of media, from children's books to adult-oriented supernatural dramas. These forms of media do not automatically portray all ghosts as frightening or bad.

In spite of the fact that Casper has had a big impact, it is essential to emphasize that it has not completely supplanted the conventional ghost legend culture. Conversely, it has broadened the perspectives and representations of ghosts in the media and the public's imagination. Popular culture reflects a more nuanced understanding of supernatural themes through the presence of friendly ghosts like Casper alongside more typical, terrifying ghosts. In conclusion, Casper the Friendly Ghost has profoundly influenced the perception of ghosts in popular culture. Casper has questioned conventional notions of the supernatural, influenced media portrayals of ghosts, and introduced intricate concepts of death and the afterlife to younger viewers. He has done this by presenting a ghost that is friendly and approachable. Within the realm of current narrative and popular imagination, this character's legacy continues to have a significant impact on our understanding and representation of ghosts.

[petra-creat0r]

Deltarune: Fool's Fate Ch. 3 Secret Boss

It's everybody's favorite kitty cowboy, Bandit Casper! This secret boss was actually made by a friend of mine, @mrchaosman and gifted to me as he saw that originally for my Chapter 3 prediction, I had wanted to do something based of off the Woody Theory but abandoned cartoon won the poll I put out which is how we eventually got Bitsy.

While I love Bitsy, as soon as I saw Casper I fell in love with him immediately! He's just a silly lil cowboy cat! Look at him! The silly! My feelings for him are pretty much exactly the meme of "I've only had Bandit Casper for a few days but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself." The backstory Mr. Chaosman made for him was also rather funny in my opinion, and though I changed it ever so slightly to match Fool's Fate chapter 3 rather than Deltarune chapter 3, you can still check it out here.

Since Casper wasn't named by me, I don't know his specific name origin, but Chaos did mention Casper's based on Starlo/North Star from Undertale Yellow. I searched up the meaning of the name Casper, and apart from being the name of Casper the Friendly Ghost (oh boy, that brings me back), it also means Treasurer or Treasure-Bearer, which I find fun since I definitely treasure Casper.

Edit: I asked Mr. Chaosman about the name, and he didn't have any particular reason for choosing it, it just sounded cool.

Though his text quirk was something Chaosman came up with, I decided the soul mode Casper uses is the green soul mode. Partially because I have my own order the Fool's Fate sb soul modes will go in that I'm not telling anyone, but also because it was the soul mode I wanted to win along with the Wood Theory to fit Undyne stuff. Instead I got the purple soul mode which is how I decided to make Bitsy a spider.

Anyways, like I said, I love Casper. I want to make a plush of him like I made Dorothy into an actual doll. Originally Chaosman made Casper's Light World equivalent a tape from his show, but I decided to make him into plushie with a maraca sewn in to better represent Casper's "friend", Rattler. I had a maraca egg pipis. I can make this real.

Backstory under the cut

Casper the Kid was the beloved mascot and face of an old anti-bullying campaign, complete with PSA cartoons where he'd bring any bullying varmints to justice, posters with slogans like "See someone being a bully? Report it to your local sheriff! (Or a trusted adult)" or "Don't be a bullying bandit, be a friend instead!", and even a plushie which may or may not been unofficial and made by some students.

In the Dark World, Casper was just as beloved as in the Light World, being seen as a sort of protector and defender of sorta where ever he went. From the grassy purple fields and blocky town of Playmat Plains where he was a town sheriff, to the Field of Hopes and Dreams or the Scarlett Forest where he was more of a vigilante, evading capture from the 4 kings.

Eventually though, kids grew up, posters got taken down, worlds changed around and grew divided, and Casper started to become less popular. Eventually the series of cartoons the friendly cat cowboy stared in stopped being made all together. Even still, Casper still tried to do his best to spread kindness and stop bullying. Though his cartoons were still being shown and he was still trying to bring bullying bandits to justice... It seemed more and more that people just stopped caring. Even if Casper tried to stop people from being mean, they didn't seem to respect his authority at all and whatever Casper did didn't even seem to make a difference.

That's when Casper came across a man. A strange someone who offered Casper a helping hand in his darkest hour. The man revealed to Casper the truth about this world and his existence, giving him a shadowy crystal that let him see his world changing before his very eyes. The man also gave Casper a mysterious egg. Saying that if the kitty cowboy ate it, he would gain a forever friend who could help him with his goal of helping others. The egg made a strange rattling noise, similar to a rattle snake. Even still, Casper still ate the egg and accepted the man's help.

Soon after that, Playmat Plains was in danger of being bought out by some powerful tycoon sent by the new ruler of this world, the Hierophant. Even if most of the inhabitants of the town no longer considered Casper their sheriff, he still felt a duty to protect the little town from some greedy tycoon who just wanted to hurt it. Casper challenged the tycoon to a duel. Who ever won could have the city. The tycoon, intrigued by the moxie of this little kitty, agreed.

What happened next, Casper didn't quite remember. All he remembers was his body shaking and hearing rattling before everything went black and he found himself on the outskirts of town when he woke up. Eventually after stumbling back into town, he found a wanted poster. But not one of a bullying bandit like usual. This time, it was a was a wanted poster of him. With the name "Bandit Casper" and a rather mighty reward.

Casper was confused. He was supposed to be the hero. Why was he all of a sudden one of the bullies he'd sworn to stop? Why was he the "bad guy"?

... What happened during that duel?

As it turned out, the egg Casper ate was actually a parasitic snake creature. Otherwise known as Casper's new "friend", Rattler, who had taken over during the duel and wrecked havoc on the town. Making everyone no longer see Casper as a friendly kitty hero, but something even worse than a bully. A dangerous menace who had to be stopped.

The Hierophant made sure to discard the rest of Casper's cartoons and the cowboy was declared an outlaw. Since then, Casper's been on the run and living out in the Checkered Desert. Still trying hist best to help anyone who crossed his path.

That was until he crossed paths with a group of Lightner children...

---------

Okay it took me a bit to rewrite Casper's backstory to fit Fool's Fate's classroom based Dark World, but I think I got it down! I imagine Casper jumping from world to world was mostly a result of the toy Casper is in the Light World and his cartoons being swapped back and forth between Toriel and Gerson before Gerson passed and his classroom was abandoned and the Casper the Kid stuff was relegated to Tori's classroom before eventually Noelle moved into that room after growing up and becoming a teacher.

Confusing, I know, but I understand it and that's all that matters, shush.

[inkareds]

Werewolf by Night Day 1 - Werewolf // Moon Knight

event masterlist // ko-fi // normal nav

Whilst Marc never seem to care much about you, fully intending to avoid you. Both Jake and Steven seems to desperately want the usually closed off man to open up.

✧.* Word count: 3.8k

✧.* Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, stitching, Marc centred, kind of rushed ending, Marc being an annoying lil shit, the reader is physically strong and was a SHIELD agent

✧.* genre: SFW // fluffy ending

Rmbr guys the event is still open and there's still a lot of slots left!!! Unless they're filled out I'll just put whoever I want AHAHAHAH (also thankq for my bestie for requesting this)

“Care to tell me how you got into this situation again?” You could hear Marc’s exasperated sigh from the other line. “With all due respect, I can tell it to you a hundred times after this!”

A burst of laughter escapes you as the sounds of grunting, and snarling beasts fill the other line. “So, are you going to help me or keep laughing at me from the other line?” Marc was clearly getting impatient.

He thought calling you would get him backup, but it seems that the only thing he’s getting is your judgement. Throwing another one of his moon-shaped daggers towards the werewolf, trying to catch up to him, he ran as fast as he could to dodge the other werewolf, trying to gain the upper hand on him. Then, swerving himself to a nearby alley to catch his breath, his eye got caught in his own reflection on a puddle.

“See, Steven, I’m telling you this was a bad idea! They’re just going to keep taunting us over the line.” He complained towards his companion. “They’re going to come, mate. Just trust us, they were Jake’s partner for years, remember?” Steven, donning his Mr Knight outfit from the reflection restated.

Marc’s head whipped around the alley outside when a loud crash followed by multiple snarling echoed through the empty night streets. “Well, tell Jake, that his old partner is a piece of shit!” Marc yelled at Steven just before going back to the fray.

“Glad to know even Steven’s the only one without a sailor’s tongue.” The sound of a different voice other than the snarls of beasts caught the attention of Marc. Looking up, his masked eyes were met with your gleeful gaze, holding two guns in your hands.

Under the mask, not that you knew, Marc grinned. “Took you long enough.” He was able to keep his annoyance in his tone.

“Oh shut up, Casper the friendly ghost. I had to change my bullets to silver bullets. It takes a while to do that, you know.” You shrugged as you carefully made your way from the rooftop down to the ground beside Marc. “Any reason why it isn’t Jake in control right now?” You motioned your gun towards Marc’s outfit.

It was extremely easy to guess who was fronting when they wore their suits. Steven always had the Mr Knight outfit, Marc had the ceremonial robes of Khonshu, and Jake had a more practical, military-style black and white more armoured outfit.

You had asked because, though you often worked with the Avatar of Khonshu, it was extremely rare for you to work with Steven or Marc. You see, you had a history with Jake Lockley long before you knew Marc and Steven existed.

Being an ex-SHIELD agent allowed you to work together with the fist of Khonshu for quite some time during his work in the States. During those times you were working with him, you knew him for Jake Lockley. Only when he disappeared without any sign of contact did you start worrying.

Then he showed up one night, explaining everything. Turns out, after Marc was found out by Steven and the whole Arthur Harrow event unfolded, it didn’t take long for Jake’s existence to be noticed by the other two. Which led to a long conversation about every memory gap Marc had. Which led to Jake coming that night to your doorstep explaining everything.

To be quite honest, you were expecting much worse. When your co-workers on a daily have to deal with literal Norse Gods, a man in a flying suit of armour, several witches and wizards, and a guy with a bow and arrow. Safe to say you weren’t surprised that the man who served under the Egyptian Moon God wasn’t all that he said he was.

“Guess he just didn’t want to see you this time.” Marc quickly made up an excuse right as a werewolf swerved its head towards the noise of his voice. Eyes locking in with the beast, there was a short tense moment where the two simply stared.

All before the werewolf lunged at both you and Marc. Thinking quickly, you aimed your guns at the beast, firing your silver bullets at the creature while pushing your body to the side to avoid its deadly lunge.

What perfect timing, you thought to yourself. Of course, you could see through the bold-faced lie Marc told you. There was more to it than Jake just not wanting to see you. You and him have been inseparable since the two of you met. But, seeing as the werewolf you shot and previously thought was dead was now starting to move once again. You knew it wasn’t the time to think of such trivial matters.

Marc could only thank whatever Egyptian God controlled the timing of that werewolf. Had you teased him or called him out on his lie, which you definitely would’ve if you had gotten the chance, he wouldn’t have been able to back up his statement.

There was good reason for you to be confused why Marc, of all people, was fronting. He tended to be the one who didn’t get along with you as much. You didn’t put it against him, Jake and you hadn’t gotten along when you first met either. It was a trust thing. And Steven trusted quickly, so it wasn’t hard for you and him to get along.

But for that exact reason, Steven and Jake, mostly Jake, usually fronted during the missions when you started joining them.

The thing that Marc would never tell you was that he and Jake got into a relatively heated argument right before this mission. Something about Jake yelling at him for being rude to you the last time the two of you interacted. To which Marc simply responded that he just flatly didn’t like you all that much.

Not like Jake or Steven. As Marc could very clearly tell, Jake had something for you, and perhaps you were growing on Steven. Something Marc loathed.

During that argument, Jake and Steven agreed that Marc would be the one fronting when you tagged along on their missions. But, it turned out, that agreement would come to play sooner than any of them had expected. Marc had actually tried giving control over the other two people in his headspace right after he called for your backup.

In response, they completely ignored him and simply pushed him back into the driver’s seat.

“How many are after you?!” you called out to Marc as the two of you split up into two different sections of the street so that the werewolves wouldn’t be working together. “Five, last I checked!”

The one that you had shot when it lunged towards you, and Marc in the alleyway was chasing after you. Its thick black fur matted with its own blood. It was moving much more sluggish than when it first pounced on you. So, aiming true, you shot the beast one last time. Watching as the creature slowed down and finally fell to the ground, unmoving.

“I got one!” You shouted out towards Marc. You saw from the corner of your eye that two werewolves were chasing after Marc, meaning there were two left.

One was running straight towards you, its sharp white teeth ready to rip you to shreds. You dodged some of its attacks as you let a rain of bullets attack the creature. “That’s one, Marc has two, one of them is down. Where is the other one?” You whispered to yourself as you made the final shots to the beast.

Keeping an eye on the look out, you pressed your back against a wall so you wouldn’t be ambushed from your back. You reloaded your guns. Who knew killing mythical beasts would use up so many bullets.

As your mind raced to figure out where the last werewolf could be, you failed to realize that the building you were leaning on didn’t have a tall roof. It was too late when you heard the growling. Looking upwards, you were met with the figure of a leaping werewolf right about to land a killing blow on you. Its long arms with sharp claws outstretched towards you.

Though you were too late to dodge unscathed, you felt fortunate enough that the only damage you sustained was a deep cut on your arm from where the werewolf’s claw had sunk into your skin. Biting the inside of your lip, you ignored the burning pain of a fresh wound on your arm. You had to focus. If you don’t, the little wound would be the least of your concerns.

“Shit.” You murmured as the beast looked even more ravenous after having a small taste of ripping your flesh. You knew at this point that your right hand would be useless; if you decided to put it to work, you could rip more of your tendons from the already tender wound.

But you hadn’t realized how dire your situation was until your head began spinning. For a mere second, your eyes left the beast’s terrifying gaze to look at your arm and assess how much blood you had lost. Unfortunately, the answer was too much. And when the beast lunged at you once again when you were not ready, you were forced to throw yourself to the ground so that its claws would not sink to your head.

In return, another flesh wound was given to you, this time on your cheek. And with you now being on the ground. One arm was severely injured and the other was holding said severely injured hand to make sure it didn’t completely bleed out. You realized you were fucked.

Codeword; were.

Your knight in shining, well white, armour appeared right behind the werewolf and slammed his body to the creature. You watched in gratefulness as Marc wrestled for a moment with the werewolf under him before finally being able to land a killing blow with his crescent-shaped blade.

“I’d love to say I had it under control, but I really didn’t.” you jested, “Thank you.” your smile was both genuine and joyful. Wanting to mask how much pain you were into the mercenary in front of you.

What scared you, though, was that Marc didn’t even respond. He stalked over towards you and wordlessly crouched right beside you. You watched with a curious gaze as he took off his cape, noting how the mask was still on his face; you couldn’t really see his expression and therefore read what he was thinking.

Using his cape, he did quick work at making a makeshift tourniquet also with a branch he had found. You tried to not wince at the pain of it all as he tightened the, now red with your blood, white cape right above the deep wound.

Unbeknownst to you, a flurry of very colourful curse words of two languages were echoing through Marc’s mind.

“How did you not see that there was three following them?! You could’ve handled three but no. You had to be the one to deal with two werewolves and give the other one to them!?” He heard Jake yell in his head.

The first time the man decided to speak since the argument. And he sounded even more enraged now than during the argument.

“Jake let’s not jump into conclusion yeah? Bet Marc didn’t even know the other one was following them. Plus, we just need to focus on getting them stitched up now.” Steven tried calming the very mad Latino down.

“Fine, but if you fuck up, I’ll take over and deal with it myself.”

Usually, Jake’s statement on taking over the body when it was dealing with you would’ve made Marc happy. But, again, he didn’t like dealing with you, not that he really knew why. It was just that Marc felt weird whenever you were around. And he hated it. Therefore, he hated you. But in today’s case. He loathed the idea of Jake taking over. It was his fault that you got hurt. He’ll be the one to fix it.

“Hey, you okay? You didn’t get hurt, did you? I thought Khonshu’s suit would make you heal fast or something.” Despite your apparent worse state than him, you still showed him more compassion than he had the entire time he had known you.

Your eyebrows furrowed in worry when Marc still didn’t answer. His emotionless mask showed none of his inner turmoil as one of your hands reached out to where his cheek would be. When he realized this, he quickly stood up from where he was standing.

“Can you walk?” he almost winced at how cold he sounded. Especially when you reacted in such a confused manner from his sudden bluntness.

You nodded as you stood up, “Yeah, I didn’t get scratched in the leg you know.” Again you tried to joke. Not that Marc laughed.

When he began walking, you asked, “Where are we going?” taking the fact that he wasn’t bidding you goodbye as a sign for you to follow him, you did so. Wincing at the slight movement making the blood seep through the tourniquet. “Steven’s loft is close to here. I’ll get you patched up there.”

You didn’t even try to hide your shock from the man. There were plenty of times you had gotten yourself hurt on the field. But usually, it’d be Jake who’d patch you up, or you patching yourself up whilst Jake, and you had a conversation. The latter was the more common one.

Despite this, you weren’t going to question it too much. Whatever’s gotten to Marc Spector’s head to get him to patch you up will not stop you from not having to stitch your own wounds.

The walk back to Steven’s walk was awkward, at least to you it was. Marc had stayed in front of you whilst you followed slowly behind him. Wincing every so often when stings of pain jolted up your arm. Marc looked back at you every time, only to mask his caring nature once you realized he was looking towards you.

Finally arriving at the homey loft, you made quick work going to the bathroom, ignoring Marc as best you could as you slowly took off the white, now red, cape from your wound. Flinching at the burning pain. Analyzing it under the luminescent yellow light of Steven’s bathroom, you could clearly tell that it would need stitches. Unfortunately, the fact that Marc had yet to enter the bathroom with you meant that Marc pulled back on his own words on patching you up.

Biting the inside of your mouth, you sucked in your shaky breath. Fuck him then.

Taking off your shirt with much effort, you prepared the needle and thread, hoping it won’t hurt so much this time. It always does, though. It always hurts no matter how many times you’d have to get stitched back up.

“What are you doing?” Speak of the Devil.

You turned your head around at Marc’s voice in the doorway he stood, carrying a bottle of alcohol. Its label scratched off and blurred from age. You had once wondered if Steven drank as much as the other two, as Marc did indulge in the liquid gold; Jake, from your longtime friendship with him, was clear to you only drank for recreation. From the look of the bottle Marc was holding, you’ve got your answer. Steven hardly drank.

You noticed that you had begun to get to know the other men that shared Jake’s body. Something you felt great joy at. You knew how much Steven and Marc meant to Jake, despite him never actually voicing how he felt. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely attracted to the man.

It only hurt you when Marc would so often brush you off. Avoid you at all costs. Even Steven warmed up to you. Why didn’t Marc?

“Trying to make sure I don’t bleed out and die?” You jested.

Marc’s already furrowed brows only furrowed deeper as he shook his head. “I said I’ll do it remember?” You stayed silent, mostly in slight shock, as Marc, now not in his costume anymore, made his way towards you.

You could tell he hesitated for a moment when he realized you weren’t wearing a shirt anymore. Despite this, he steeled himself off the embarrassment and grabbed the needle and thread from your hands. You had never seen Marc so gentle as that moment. He, softer than you thought was possible for Marc, angled your hand so that he could better patch it up.

The silence both of you had made for yourself was only broken when Marc poured half of the bottle’s contents towards your, still bleeding, arm. You threw your head to the side as you bit your tongue to stop a scream from leaving you. The stinging pain burned from your hand all the way up and down your arm.

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t even register the fact that Marc had whispered those two words under his breath, as you were too busy not to let out your own slew of curses. Knowing had you done so, the next time Jake and you were alone, you wouldn’t hear an end to his teasing.

If only you knew how silent both Jake and Steven were in Marc’s mind. The two of them fretting about your own wellbeing.

Turning your head back to look at Marc, your heart stammered against your chest for a moment. He looked so focused, so careful. You could tell he was nervous; just like Jake, he had a tendency to stiffen his jaw when he was unsure of something. But his hands were as stable as they could get.

“Look away; it’ll make things easier.” You were about to retort how you’ve been patched up more times than one could count on their hands, how a little bit of blood and gore won’t do much to you.

But with the gash continuing to ooze blood, you heeded Marc’s warning and looked away. You gritted your teeth when the first puncture of a needle inserted itself into your skin.

When it was finished, Matt softly wrapped a piece of gauze on your skin. And finally, looked upwards to look at your face and not your wound.

That was the moment both of your eyes locked with one another. The tension was palpable in the air. So thick one would be able to cut it with a knife. Though from your point of view, everything was silent. Marc’s head spoke a different story.

“Kiss them.” Jake muttered. “We’ve talked about this, just kiss em’.”

But he couldn’t.

Looking into your eyes, Marc wouldn’t let himself fall for you. Not the same way Jake and Steven have. He won’t let himself be weak. So, Marc looked away, he turned and aimed to beeline towards the door.

Which he would’ve done had you not immediately grasped his arm, pulling him so he’d face you once more, and in one swift movement, pressed your lips against his. Marc’s eyes widened as he realized what you had done; for a moment, you were about to pull back because of his hesitancy to kiss you back. Thinking you had made a mistake in reading his body language and attraction towards you.

Steven was the one who stopped this from happening. “MATE, KISS THEM BACK!!!” Finally, Marc snapped out of his trance just before you pulled away. Marc pressed his hand against the back of your neck, pushing you into a deeper kiss with the man. You hummed in pleased surprise.

“Mierda, why was that so difficult?” Jake muttered in their head as Marc pulled away. Leaving you absolutely breathless.

Marc’s heart practically soared when he saw your eyes, starry and joyous. You looked incredible and that kiss felt even more incredible. He scolded himself internally for waiting that long to do it.

The moment was ruined when you couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. “You know, I had thought if I were to kiss one of you, it’d be Jake first.”

“You hear that?!” Jake enthusiastically yelled. Marc’s face morphed into that of jealousy as he listened to your laughter. In a way, it made sense; for one, Marc was the one who seemed to hate you the most out of the other two; for two, Jake had known you much longer. But that didn’t stop him from being slightly annoyed by your statement.

“Oh, I see how it is, alright then if you prefer Jake.” Marc pulled away from your embrace, feigning frustration. “No Marc! No! That’s not what I meant!!” You were able to mutter out between your fits of laughter.

Before you could apologize even more, Marc’s body stiffened for a moment, “Marc?”

“Not anymore, mi corazon.” Just like that, Jake was in control. He immediately pushed you back towards the sink you had been leaning to, his body pressed against you.

From his grin, you could already tell that it was Jake. “I heard you were looking for me?” he whispered, his face mere centimetres away from your own.

When it was Marc, you were bold but hesitant, but Jake? Jake, you were an absolute mess for. Jake chuckled almost condescendingly when you couldn’t find the words to answer. Then, slowly inching closer to you, his lips were on you. You melted against his warm embrace, both his hands trapping you between him and the sink.

Just as Jake snaked his tongue into your own mouth, all of a sudden he pulled back. Your eyes opened in confusion, only to be met with Steven. Till this day, it surprised you how much you could tell the three apart.

“Sorry for the interruption loves, but you see I think it’s kind of unfair that Marc got your first kiss and now Jake’s about to do something else. I’m just here watching all of this unfold, even though we’ve had this conversation before and we agreed to-”

For a third time that night, you kissed the men you loved. Essentially it was to shut Steven up, though it was also to help him feel less left out. When you pulled away, Steven looked positively beaming and shocked simultaneously. His expression and reactions differ so much from the other two that it caused a giggle to escape you.

“Good night boys.” you muttered to Steven as you made your way out of the bathroom, not forgetting a small kiss on Steven’s cheek as a thank you for giving his place for you to patch up.

Steven practically watched you leave with stars in his eyes, knowing that the next time you meet, it’ll be much different than the tense environment it had been before.

[naffeclipse]

You know, there is something I keep thinking about the hunter that won't leave my mind.

In the werewolf chapter, as they tell the story with the demon, they say "I used to love cryptids".

Thing is. I feel like they really still do. Like it's a love hate relationship, except they don't seem to have much hate either. Yes, they have the very firm believe that Cryptids are dangerous and *must* be dealt with, or innocent people will pay the price, but their approach really doesn't seem very personal (and this despite the fact that it was the constant fear of the demon that put them in this path). Their main motivation is not to kill, it's to protect. They refer to a lot of cryptids as if they were rabid animals rather than creatures with actual thoughts and understanding (which they don't think they have), with evil and pain being an instinct to the cryptids instead of a reasoning, even feeling a bit of compassion for the vampires at the start, offering to let them rest rather than live with a cursed existence. And that's just about the hunts themselves!

We see time and time again how they love filling their life with cryptid merch and how it brings them joy! The novelty T-shirts, all the little decorations in their airstream, the fact that the first series they wanted to show Sun and Moon is Casper, the friendly ghost! Not only that, they are so enthusiastic about the real life cryptids almost from a scientific standpoint! They love it when Sun and Moon ask about this or that creature, because then they get to share! They get to talk about all they know about them and what is an effective way to deal with them!

If they stopped loving cryptids, I swear the way in which they act about it wouldn't be as excited. More like Vanessa seems to be, which from the small tidbits the hunter has provided, seems to be much more aggressive, much more personal, and much more filled with hate for all these creatures. Their expression darkening when talking about them instead of lighting up.

Just a small thing I find interesting about y/n, since they claim that their love for cryptids is over and yet there is so much about their choices that says otherwise!

*rattles you* Yes! A thousand times yes! I'm gonna smooch ya on your big beautiful brain *mwah*

Y/N thinks that if they're scared of something, they can no longer love it, but that's not the truth. They love cryptids, but it's been so terribly overshadowed by the fear of their first encounter and the subsequential night terrors and other side effects that they think they've lost that joy. Like a child growing up and seeing the world for the first time, their view on cryptids—the one thing they have been fascinated about and chasing for as long as they can remember—has been tainted by harshness and reality. The idealization is gone, but not the love. They have a difficult time acknowledging that something can be both good and bad, bring both joy and horror, and that's okay. That's something to work through. Y/N can have both a love and a fear for cryptids.

Perhaps a certain cryptid will allow Y/N to understand that.

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

Would you do hc's for bay Hound, bee, hotrod, and mtmte tailgate and rung. For what two Halloween movies they would watch with a friend, ranging from not so scary to super scary horror. For example what's a not so scary family friendly yet spooky movie they would watch. And what's a very horror/slasher/bloody movie They would watch. And what's their limit on scary?

Hound:

He doesn't have a limit on scary. He'll watch anything. He doesn't really get scared by anything, especially not human horror films because he knows they are all fake.

He jumps right into the horrors by watching The Exorcist. And he is completely unaffected by it.

His friend however was. So now he'll sit and watch Nightmare before Christmas, so his friend can call down. He doesn't mind though, he thinks it's an entertaining film.

Hot Rod:

Hot Rod and his friend start off watching Paranorman. He thinks it's quite a fun movie. He likes the animation and the story. Afterwards his friend suggests a scarier movie.

He asks if they are sure, he has no problem watching scarier, but he doesn't want his friend to have nightmares. They settle on The Thing.

Hot Rod dislikes it. He dislikes the idea of a horrible creature coming out of the ice. He hates the idea that it takes the form of humans then turns into a disgusting monster.

He wants to cling to his friend. But he also wants space from them, fear that they could actually be a monster in disguise. It takes him a couple days after the film to stop thinking all his friends could be a monster in disguise.

He has now decided he does not like horror films and is quite happy not watching them.

Bumblebee:

They start out watching Hocus Pocus. Bee enjoys it, he thinks it's quite fun. He's watched a few films with Sam and he's never really been scared before.

So he decided to go up and level. He and his friend watch paranormal activity.

He hates it!! He hates the idea of ghosts, invisible entities that can't be seen or touched but they can hurt you? No he's not interested in that. He is not interested in watching any more ghost films.

His friend does suggest Casper. But Bee refuses. No more ghosts, it's a terrifying idea.

Tailgate:

He thought he could handle scary films no problem, so he wanted to start out with the scariest. But his friend suggested they start off small.

They watch Gremlins, and he somewhat enjoyed it. He thought Gizmo was cute. The other gremlins were a bit ugly but he enjoyed the film. So he excitedly states they should watch the scary one, because obviously he is fine with scary films.

They end up watching The Conjuring. And oh he was wrong. He refuses to turn the lights off, and will not let go of his friend. He's terrified if he lets go they are going to get possessed they go around hunting him. He can't deal with the idea of an evil spirit being inside his friend.

This was his lesson, and he'll NEVER watch horror films again.

Rung:

He is intrigued that humans watch scary films for enjoyment. He doesn't quite know why being scared is enjoyable, but he's willing to give it a go for his friend.

They start of with the least scary to test the water. His friend picks out Monster House. Seeing as it's an animated film, Rung knows it's obviously fake. He enjoys it. He thinks it's quite a happy ending, and he says he would watch it again.

Next up was a really scary movie. They decided on Scream.

Rung spent the entire movie, trying to analyze and diagnose the killer. He wondered why humans would want to become murderers and why they wear a mask. He understands why humans would find it scary. Unlike monsters or aliens, murderers actually exist and could happen. So he rates it as a successful scary movie, just because it could be realistic. Although he was not personally scared by it, he will say it is a good enough movie to scare other people.

[merryfortune]

Spectre the Friendly Ghost

Written for Respectfulshipping Week 2024

Prompt: Dragon | Ghost

Title: Spectre the Friendly Ghost

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains 

Word Count: 3,287

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - Casper the Friendly Ghost

   Exorcists, GhostBusters, and a construction crew.

   They all tried and… they all failed.

   All they had to do was get rid of a ghost or four. 

   Surely that had to be easy. After all, ghosts don’t exist. Or at least that’s what Ryoken believes - or believed. Right up until he moved into a certain house in a certain place with his Father who was vehement that he would do what those before him had failed to do: exorcise the ghosts of this mansion.

   He wasn’t an exorcist, however, so he didn’t speak in tongues or prayers. Nor did he have the kooky technology of a Ghostbuster and he wasn’t about to go all demolition crew on this mansion either. No. Dr. Kiyoshi Kogami was a psychotherapist to the undead. Completely and utterly one of a kind - and out of his mind if you asked Ryoken.

   Until six months ago, his Father was a normal, sane man with a normal, sane job in the world of science. Then, his wife and Ryoken’s mother, passed away in an accident and he became obsessed. He began to believe in ghosts, in life on the other side and he was going to prove it.

   So far, all he had done was tatter his reputation and his relationship with his son. They were constantly in flux, moving all over the place, a media circus typically following because they wanted to know what the crazy ex-scientist was doing next! 

   Kiyoshi claimed he’d had successful clients and helped CBT ghosts to the other side but Ryoken wasn’t convinced. He hadn’t seen anything until right now.

   “Hi, I’m Spectre, it’s good to meet you!”

   Ryoken screamed. Then fainted. Then screamed again when he came to the ghost of a child was still hovering over him. 

   The most recent client that his Father had taken on was a woman who went by the alias of Queen. She had recently inherited a mansion through some obscure relative she hadn’t even known existed until she was notified that she was in the will. The mansion was old and abandoned but she wanted it cleaned up and when conventional methods hadn’t worked because of reported poltergeist-like activity, she called in yet more guns: Dr. Kogami and his son. 

   And now, out of all the cases they had seen so far which had been more busts than not, they had finally found a house which was well and truly haunted.

  The mansion certainly looked the part. Tall and intimidating, filled with antique furniture and cobwebs, on the edge of a cliff. It looked straight out of a Stephen King novel but it wasn’t until they’d gone inside when they realised it was abandoned. It was still very much lived in. Just by no one alive.

   Ryoken encountered Spectre in his room. Well, it was Ryoken’s room now but it had been Spectre’s up until he died. Kind of, considering he was still haunting it. Then, in the foyer, Ryoken’s Father encountered Spectre’s relatives: his two uncles and an aunt.

   “It’s good to meet you.” 

   Spectre didn’t look anything like the ghosts on television. He wasn’t all that person shaped for a start, nor was he a boo ghost with a bedsheet over his head, either. He was translucent, though, and his colouration reminded Ryoken of the halo behind the moon: the silver, whites, and blues which were shifting and eerie. He had massive porcelain doll-like eyes, too, which were completely soul devouring.

   Compared to his aunt and uncles, Spectre was sweet as pie. A little kid who just wanted to make friends. 

   His aunt and uncles were raising Hell for Ryoken’s father downstairs, taunting him that they knew someone who knew his wife. He tried not to take the bait and stay on task but where was the fun in that? Not when Dr. Kogami made for such a good chew toy. So it was apparent that they weren’t going to be convinced that positive self-talk would be good for them, that they should let go of their unfinished business and cross over to the other side. Though, they did find Kiyoshi amusing for trying. Looks like he was going to be in for the long haul for these three clients.

   Ryoken didn’t know if he was terrified or thrilled. He was fully on board with ghosts now, living in a house full of them. But he could see that the actual drudgery of dealing with them was wearing his Father down, too. 

   Then there was Spectre and whatever his deal was.

   He struck Ryoken as being a little bit younger than him. Two or three years, give or take. And he was infatuated with Ryoken, too, now that he had a playmate about the same age as him - and didn’t boss him around like his aunt and uncles, either.

   They used him around the house more like a servant than a family member. Ryoken couldn’t believe that there was a personal connection between them. To him, it seemed more like a mishmash of people than not but hey. What did he know?

   The names of the aunt and uncles - Baira, Faust, and Genome - were carved into the heads of the western style beds, after all. Spectre didn’t even have that but he did seem like he had the rest of the house. He was free to float through it but he didn’t really, he preferred to keep to himself and his room.

   But he did have a special place.

   “Do you want to see it?”

   Spectre didn’t wait for an answer.

   Ryoken screamed as he was taken out through his window and up, up, and away. It was cold and windy but so beautiful, too. The ocean was a navy blue as it expanded endlessly out over the horizon and Ryoken could swear he could see over it from this turret in the corner of the mansion.

   They sat together on the edge, feet in the gutter, Ryoken’s bum on the tiling and got talking. About things, about life, and death, too.

   “Do you think she’s out there?” Ryoken asked. “My mother?”

   “Probably not… but that’s a good thing. It meant you and Dr. Kogami loved her so much, she didn’t need more time with you.”

   That was one way to look at grief. Spectre would know better than Ryoken, he was just a thirteen year old fleshie after all. Ryoken hugged his knees tighter.

   “So does that mean there was someone whom you didn’t get to love enough in life?” Ryoken asked. “Is that why you’re still here, as a ghost?”

   Spectre shrugged.

   Ryoken chewed his bottom lip. It felt gauche to ask yet appropriate at the same time. He glanced at Spectre.

   “Why are you a ghost? Like, um-”

   “How did I die?”

   Ryoken nodded.

   “I’m not sure either. I just remember that it was cold. Very cold… I don’t remember anything else aside from that. Not how old I was when I died, or if I had parents to miss me. Nothing…”

   “Oh… I’m sorry.” Ryoken replied.

   Seeing Spectre, the idea of Heaven, if that’s where his mother was at all, seemed a lot better than this post-death amnesia where he couldn’t stray too far from what tethered him materially. He couldn’t even remember why he was here. It was kind of a pity but he must have wanted to know too because the next day, Spectre invited Ryoken to explore more of the house.

  It was a big, big mansion - nigh labyrinthian - so there had to be a hint. A clue.  Somewhere he did not usually go and didn’t want to go which would elucidate more of why Spectre was a ghost at all.

   Ryoken agreed to help and it didn’t take them long to find something. They wanted to avoid Spectre’s relatives as well as Ryoken’s Father. They were all clumped together in the main rooms around the foyer for their so-called therapy sessions. So, Ryoken and Spectre went sneaking around upstairs and in the attic.

   Up there, they found a treasure trove. 

   No wonder Spectre didn’t typically hang out up there. It was full of precious memories and mementos from when she had been alive. Toys, clothes, and yes, even the newspaper article on how his untimely death drove his poor mother to madness and, allegedly, witchcraft. 

   Ryoken looked at Spectre as he absorbed what he could of the attic. The dust motes floated in the air, through musty windows with the battens hatched and boarded up. He had been dead for a long, long time and alive for just the blink of an eye really. It was a lot to take in, no wonder he had been subconsciously avoiding it.

   “I wanted to see my mother again…”

   Made sense.

   Except. She wasn’t here. Clearly, she was in that other place. Well away from the mansion and her son and their other relatives to had stayed.

   “She turned to witchcraft to… to… to find a way to bring me back to life.” 

   “But that’s impossible, right?” Ryoken asked but when Spectre turned around, he was grinning maniacally.

   Clearly, Ryoken ought to know better than to call something impossible. He changed his mind on the existence of ghosts pretty quickly upon arriving at this haunted mansion.

  “No, she found a way. I-In the basement, come with me. I remember now.”

   Just as quickly as the night before, Ryoken was taken for a ride. Spectre grabbed his hand and they raced through the house. They passed Ryoken’s Father and Spectre’s relatives on the way. Huh, weird, they were in a kind of good mood now, leaving the house, actually so they could do something together. Strange.

   Didn’t matter though. Especially since Spectre knew he was going to be up to no good, defying the conventions of life and death. With Ryoken in tow, of course. 

   Down in the basement, there were trap doors and other contraptions. It took them for a ride and then they arrived somewhere even further down than the basement.

   “Wow, what is this place?” Ryoken asked, his eyes wide as he took in the bizarre surroundings, deep in a cavern scented with salt water.

   “My mother’s laboratory.”

   Spectre raced off and Ryoken followed along. He looked over dusty tomes and cluttered desks. It was all left in such disarray, free to age over the decades, abandoned by all who had died over the years. 

   All except something at the heart of it. A set of potions embedded in wooden holders, just one and it glistened, shinier and redder than a ruby. Spectre pointed it out as though it wasn’t obvious from miles away.

   “This… This is the elixir of life my mother brewed.”

   Ryoken wolf-whistled, impressed.

   Spectre’s expression was frantic, excited, his eyes glittered then he spoke up again after hold this moment of relish which left Ryoken thunderstruck.

   “There’s enough for a one time go. One ghost to become human again. All you have to do is put it in the holder and I go into the chamber and then presto.” 

   It all sounded so simple when put like that but Ryoken glanced at the chamber that Spectre mentioned. It looked unsafe to say the least. A monstrosity of wood and metal, bolted and boarded up, like a zero gravity chamber before those were even conceived of as being a thing.

   “You can help me, right? I want to be human, again, just like you. We could go to school together and play games and-”

   Ryoken laughed. He smiled. Spectre sounded so excited, how could he possibly say no? His Mother designed it and it's not like he was going to get any deader. If it worked, it worked. If it didn’t? Spectre would be heartbroken but they could still hang out and play together, just like they had been before.

   “Alright, I’ll help.” Ryoken agreed.

   Spectre grinned and he dived into the chamber.

   Ryoken turned and he unlatched the glass potion from its wooden holder. His fingers grazed the surface and then he heard something. It made him jump out of his skin, it made him look up.

   “Father?” Ryoken exclaimed.

   His heart stopped.

   He knew it had been weird to see his Father in a good mood around his clients. They were so good at dragging him down, through the mud and draining the life out of him. Not to mention, he was nothing if not professional.

   “There was a little accident, kiddo.” 

   “It wasn’t our fault.” 

   “He did it to himself.”

   One by one, they all spoke up. Genome. Then Baira. And then Faust last.

   Ryoken watched. He stared in anguish as his Father joined them. No longer alive, no longer flesh and blood like he but a ghost. Like the others. Strange, spectral figures who twisted and contorted what it meant to be human-like, in eerie shades of green, pink, and brown.

   “We were going to do it quick.”

   “Harpoon through the heart.”

   “He chose to break every bone instead.”

  Again, that same choir going down the line: Genome, Baira, and then Faust last. Then, together, in unison.

   “He fell to his death in a pit!”

   Ryoken flinched.

   He didn’t even so much as wince when Spectre had revealed the snippets of his own death but this? This felt just like when he heard his Mother had been in an accident. 

   “And I have never felt more alive!”

   Ryoken watched as his Father floated, looped and swirled through the air.

   “What are you even doing down here?”

   “I didn’t even know we had a down here!”

   “Where’s Spectre?”

   Sure enough, at Faust and company’s beck and call, Spectre was prompted. He drew himself out of the chamber and was just as slack jawed to see the new ghost in the mansion’s fold.

  “Dr. Kogami!”

   Spectre joined Ryoken at his side. Ryoken’s lower lip quivered but he was in such denial, he couldn’t shed any of the tears in the corner of his eye.

   Ryoken couldn’t bring himself to ask. Spectre didn’t want to say it. But they were both thinking it.

   “Are you sure it works?” Ryoken asked, his voice cracking.

   He knew that Spectre wanted to be his friend in life and living again but.

   He needed his Father.

   Spectre swallowed thickly. A bluish colour swished through him.

   “I’ll help. Anything for you, Ryoken.”

   Spectre jetted off and glared at his aunt and uncles. They tried to stop him but this was the first time he had ever glared daggers at them. Not so much as a word as he ripped Dr. Kogami from their sides, grabbing him and dragging him down, down, down into the chamber.

   Dr. Kogami rambled drunkenly. Ryoken put his hands over his ears. He ignored the cries and demands that he was being a partypooper from Baira, Faust, and Genome. He grit his teeth together and hoped that Spectre was right. That the magic potion his mother had made all those years ago did work.

   “Ready?”

   Ryoken wasn’t much use though. Spectre did most of the hard work as he surrendered the elixir to Dr. Kogami. Ryoken pushed aimlessly at a ship captain’s wheel and the machine came to life. It whirred and roared and when it finished, it made a ding like a laundry machine.

   Steam poured out of it and the door to it opened.

   A ghost had gone in but a ghost did not come out.

   “Huh? Where am I?” Dr. Kogami asked. “Ryoken?”

   Ryoken ran to his Father’s side and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Spectre hovered like, well, a ghost and disappeared just as quickly. His relatives booed and heckled but it had worked.

   That’s all that mattered.

   Ryoken, with his Father, staggered back up into the main part of the house. Dr. Kogami rambled about how… how… he still didn’t see his wife again. Ryoken was just glad to have his father still but poor Spectre.

   There was only enough to save one and Ryoken had seen how that cherry red elixir evaporated into the mechanism of the machine. No recipe to be seen amongst the dusty tomes.

   For the rest of the day, Spectre made himself sparse. He ignored his aunt and uncles’ demands to be “fed” so they could enjoy the farce of dinner and he ignored Ryoken’s plea to see him again.

   Ryoken felt awful but it was the right thing. For that, Spectre ought to be proud of his selflessness. His Father certainly appreciated it after his maligned fall. He didn’t say much about it. The same could not be said for either Baira, Faust, nor Genome, however.

   “Where is the brat?”

   “He’s never late.”

   “Wait, what’s that?”

   The dining room was conjoined to the main foyer which ws, typically, the dimmest part of the house as it was covered by the storeys above, surrounded by doors rather windows which was why it was mighty peculiar that any light would come through it. Especially one as bright and angelic as this one.

   Everyone ran inside, only to stop in their tracks.

   “Sorry for being late…” Spectre said. “I, um, I’m out of practise putting clothes on.” He sheepishly admitted.

   Ryoken couldn’t believe his eyes.

   He had always imagined Spectre as being a dorky little kid but he actually looked older than expected, with silver-grey hair and of course those big blue eyes which looked dollike. Especially from afar and he was all dolled up in a flowy villager shirt and neat, black trousers. 

   He descended down the stairs slowly. He wasn’t used to walking, either. Too used to zipping and floating about as a ghost.

   “How the hell-?”

   “Uh-uh, not hell. Heaven.” an Angel interjected.

   The voice came from further afar the stairwell’s main flight and Dr. Kogami couldn’t believe his ears, nor his eyes. He would know that voice and that appearance from anywhere.

   “My love.” he gasped.

   He raced up as he let Ryoken and Spectre congregate in the foyer, in the middle of the aged orange and brain tiles. Spectre made the excess fabric on his shirt’s sleeves twirl as he stopped Ryoken from following hot on his Father’s footsteps.

   “Not yet.” Spectre said. “I… I want your attention first, please, Ryoken.”

   “Oh, um, right, sorry, but - but that’s my Mother…?” Ryoken said, looking over and past Spectre’s shoulder impatiently before returning his attention to the human boy in front of him.

   Spectre nodded, “It is. She, um, helped me out. Like a fairy godmother.” Spectre said. “Turns out my aunt and uncles do know someone who knows someone who, um, knows her and she wanted to thank me for preventing your Father from well. Becoming a full-time ghost.”

   “Wow, really?” Ryoken’s eyes went wide.

   “Mmhm.” Spectre mumbled. “But only for one day.”

   “Like Cinderella.” Ryoken said. “Well, we’re going to have to make it worth it then.”

   “Yeah.” Spectre smiled.

   Ryoken quietened down and realised he had something he wanted to ask of Spectre, “So, um, what about your mother?” He asked in a tiny voice.

   Spectre laughed, “In heaven. I asked your mother that too. It, um, turns out they’re friends.”

   “No way.” Ryoken couldn’t believe the odds.

   “So, let’s enjoy our time together though? Please? I’m so… so…” Spectre’s eyes began to fill up with tears of gratitude, his whole body trembled. “I’m so excited to have any time at all with you because um… I have a crush on you!”

   Ryoken blushed. He couldn’t say he was surprised by the confession but he nodded. He wasn’t sure how, if it could work, but for now. Ryoken took Spectre’s hand and that was enough to feel like they were flying on cloud nine.

[erandiblack]

An idea I got last year while watching Nowhere Productions on YouTube around Halloween that I'm finally sharing.

Phasmopunk!

What is Phasmopunk?

Phasmopunk revolves around the existence of a ghost world and the relations between the living and dead. Ghosts could range from cute little guys who poses no harm to great evils that need to be stopped. Mortals in phasmopunk stories tend to fear ghosts.

Technology

Technology in phasmopunk stories tend to be whatever we have in the "now" with the exception of a few where some people made their own ghost hunting gear. Often phasmology, the study of ghosts, is a thing and there are phasmologists with proof of the ghost world.

Ascetic

There's not an established ascetic, but the exemples I've found are all set in the "now". Some stories may refer to ideas such as ley line, the ethereal plane, and ectoplasm. Spirit mediums and exorcists are also common place.

Exemples of Phasmopunk

Ghostbusters

I haven't watched Ghostbusters besides "Answer the Call" in years so that's the example I'll be referring to. In the story, academia won't help them study ghosts and when they went indie the government told them to lie about the existence of ghosts.

Danny Phantom

The story focus on Danny Fenton, a high-schooler and son of two phasmologists, who became half-ghosts after an accident with his parents portal to the ghost world. He then went and act vigilante with his two friends, fighting ghosts who want to wreak havoc while he avoid being captured or having his secret identity discovered.

Casper the Friendly Ghost

In Casper's stories, he always want to befriend the living despite it being the norm for ghosts to strike fear in mortals. No matter what, he tries his best to fight against conventions to make friends.

(maybe) Beetlejuice

This is a maybe because I'm not too sure. Barbara and Adam Maitland died and found that their home was bought by the Deetz family, who they try to get rid of within the rules of the ghost world. When that doesn't work they get the help of the bio-exorcist, Betelgeuse, who's malevolent methods lead the Deetz to preform an exorcism of their own.

The Haunted Mansion (2023)

I'm referring to the 2023 version because the 2003 version feels more like a standard ghost story. In the 2023 version we follows Ben Matthias, a former astrophysicist who was developing a camera to detect dark matter, who's running a ghost tour his late wife Alyssa once ran. One day, an exorcist priest name Father Kent hires him to use his dark matter camera to photograph the Gracey Manor's ghosts for doctor Gabbie and her son Travis. This tying him to the manor until he and the others can break the curse.

Where did Phasmopunk start?

Paranormal research dates back to the nineteenth century, with organizations such as the Society for Psychical Research investigating spiritual matters, but people had tried to understand the paranormal long before that. Latter in the twentith century, psychic researcher Harry Price published his "Confessions of a Ghost-Hunter" in 1936. Just sixteen years after that in 1952, Alfred Harvey, founder and publisher of Harvey Comics began producing Casper comic books. In terms of ghost hunting, the practice existed in the 1900s but was popularized in the 2000s by television series such as "Most Haunted" and "Ghost Hunters", combined with the increasing availability of high-tech equipment. The Atlantic Paranormal Society reported a doubling in their membership in the late 2000s, attributing this to the television programs. To this day, ghost hunting content remains highly popular even when some amit to acting and editing stuff into their videos.

Real Life Phasmopunks

Any paranormal investigators or researchers who are actually looking for evidence to the existence of ghosts.

I guess also anyone who tries to live harmoniously with ghosts.

How do I feel about Phasmopunk?

I love it and want more of it. There's an idea that some believe, that ghosts feed off of electricity. I think someone could do something with that and Nikola Tesla's wireless electricity. He was interested in the paranormal and created gear people are still using to hunt ghosts such as spirit boxes and infrared sensors. Also, Beetlejuice's whole bio-exorcist thing is an interesting idea. I can invision a group of ghosts keeping other ghosts' properties safe from the living. If someone try to make phasmopunk music a thing, I want a lot of theremins. The theremin sprang up around the same time as research into the paranormal, are often associated with ghosts, and have been used before in rock music.

Questions

Do you guys think there's something here or am I just seeing things? I believe there is but one can easily blind themselves in their beliefs and need the help of others to see clearly.

Also, I was considering listing "The Ghost and Molly McGee", "ParaNorman", and "R.I.P.D" as exemples of Phasmopunk but couldn't decided if they should count. So tell me what you think should count.

[aphilosopherchair]

Ghosts Feeling the Economic Squeeze

The economy is tough for everyone, but it's especially tough for ghosts. With so many people out of work, ghosts are finding it hard to find jobs that they're qualified for.

"It's a ghost town out there," said Casper, a ghost who has been looking for work for months. "There just aren't enough jobs for everyone."

"It's been really competitive," said Bryan Wilson, another ghost, who was laid off from his job as a night watchman. "So many other ghosts are also looking for work."

Miss Frizzle, a ghost who was a former teacher, said that she's been struggling to find a new job. "I'm qualified and I have experience, but no one seems to want to hire a ghost," she said.

But why do ghosts need jobs? "In a story universe where the paranormal did not exist, we would be just dead. But we have a chance here. And given the customs of the fiction we live in, we need to buy things like ectoplasm and spectral silk to keep that chance. Consumers don't want to read about totally undignified and unclothed ghosts," explained a ghost named Emily.

"Just like us humans, ghosts have needs to feel comfortable and safe," said Stella C. Ai, an afterlife care expert. "They also want to have a sense of belonging in the world they live in, so they might desire their own homely, private space, which graveyards are not."

"And although they might not require food in the same way humans do, they may still have a hunger for energy, especially if they need to stay buoyant in places haunted by toxicity and apathy," she added.

Many employers are expectedly reluctant to hire ghosts, worried that ghosts would be disruptive or scare away customers.

"We just don't think ghosts are a good fit for our company culture," said one manager, who declined giving her name. "We're looking for someone who is friendly and approachable, and ghosts just don't fit that bill."

Another problem is that ghosts are not as versatile as humans. They can't do many of the jobs that humans do, such as driving, cooking, or cleaning.

"We're pretty limited in what we can do," said another ghost, Floaty. "We can't really interact with the physical world, so that rules out a lot of jobs."

The job market for ghosts is also being affected by the rise of technology. Some companies are now using robots to perform tasks that were once done by ghosts, such as scaring people in haunted houses.

"It's not fair," said Robbie, a ghost who was replaced by a robot. "I'm the real deal, and I can do the job better than any robot."

But some employers are starting to see the benefits of hiring ghosts. Ghosts are often very hard-working and dedicated employees. They're also very good at getting things done without being noticed.

"I've been very impressed with the work of our ghost employees," said Mr. Jenkins, a manager of Happy Inn. "They're always on time and they always get their work done."

Some ghosts are working as actors in ghost movies and TV shows, tour guides in haunted houses, and psychics and mediums.

"It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing," said Ghost of Christmas Past, a ghost who works as a tour guide. "At least I'm getting to see some new places."

A growing group has even started working as influencers on social media. They share their ghostly experiences and advice with their followers, and some have even managed to amass large followings.

"It's a great way to connect with other ghosts and share our stories," said one ghost influencer, who goes by the moniker ghost_with_a_plan. "And it's also a great way to make money."

So while the economic climate is definitely challenging, there are still ways for ghosts to find work. With a little creativity and determination, they can find success in the workforce.

Reported by Rylan Bard, a journalist for Nether Yammer. Additional reporting by Human, a ghost writer, ergh, human ghost writer, ergh, human writer for Nether Yammer.

Check out the rest of this Tumblr site for crucial and actual diversity-themed content.

[trial-songs]

Trial Songs Masterpost

Since Tumblr mobile doesn't show our links properly, here is a masterpost of information about Trial Songs (such as characters and information on the series.)

Happy reading! ---

About the Series

Synopsis:

“Trial Songs is a collaborative story written by multiple authors, with LGBTQ+ characters, previously penned as a roleplay campaign.

It is set in a fantasy-esque world with sprawling empires, small countries, and varying levels of technology and magic intertwined.

The story mainly follows two main perspectives: the perspective of Lyre, a runaway from the Blackstone Empire, alongside his partner Casper, and the perspective of the Cabinet of No Man’s Land, an ex-province of the Blackstone Empire that declared independence – said Cabinet consisting of Izaiah, Naomi, Jeremy, and Queue.

Previously, No Man’s Land and the Blackstone Empire were at war – in which No Man’s Land fought for its sovereignty. Trial Songs takes place in the tentative ceasefire that has been reached between the two powers.

The events of Trial Songs will threaten that ceasefire … and stretch the peace to its very limits.”

--

Trial Songs is a text-roleplay campaign turned digital novel! A variety of characters belong to different people.

Currently, the existing authors are as follows:

Ven & Tea (Founders)

Awisha & Cyc (Cowriters)

Royal Road Link: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/82067/trial-songs

---

Characters

Trial Songs has a variety of characters, and here will be featured the official designs of the main cast once their references are completed.

–

Lyre Ambrosia - he/him (questioning) - 21 Writer: Ven

A voidfolk hybrid and escapee from the Blackstone Empire. – Casper - he/him (genderqueer) - 23 Writer: Tea

A friendly ghost. For the most part. –

Izaiah Marris - he/him (ftm) - early 30s Writer: Tea

Mr. President (of NML's Cabinet). Don't call him that, though. – Jeremy Collins - he/him (male) - late 20s Writer: Tea

Secretary of Treasury of NML's Cabinet (... and designated errand boy.) �� Naomi Agbayani-Calinao - she/her (female) - late 20s Writer: Awisha

Ms. Vice President (of NML's Cabinet), currently trying to hold it all together. – Queue Andrews - he/they (nb) - 30 Writer: Ven

The designated Community Manager of NML’s Cabinet -- and a hopeless romantic. – Clover Andrews - he/him (questioning) - 17 Writer: Ven

A young goat hybrid with enchanter’s blood native to NML. Alex's best friend. –

Alex Blossom - she/her (mtf) - 16 Writer: Tea REF TBA Just a lass, native to NML. Clover's best friend. – Dr. Laurence Faulkner - he/him (ftm) - 39 Writer: Cyc REF TBA DESCRIPTION TBA – Octavian de Vitis - he/him (genderqueer) - 36 Writer: Cyc REF TBA DESCRIPTION TBA – Chaos Ambrosia - he/him (male) - 40s Writer: Ven

The ruling Emperor of the Blackstone Empire.

---

That's all for now! Thanks for reading!

[stcllxr]

*       if you’re hearing EVERYTHING I WANTED by BILLIE EILISH playing, you have to know GABRIELE CASPER MORRETTI (HE/THEY; NON-BINARY) is near by! the 31 year old JAZZ MUSICIAN AT PANDORA'S BOX/COMPOSER has been in denver for, like, SEVEN MONTHS (THIS TIME). they’re known to be quite ERRATIC, but being HUMOROUS seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble KEIYNAN LONSDALE. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those HAIR COLOUR CHANGING AS OFTEN AS THEIR UNDERWEAR, COUCH SURFING THEIR WAY AROUND THE GLOBE, AN EAR THAT CAN PICK UP A TUNE FROM JUST A FEW NOTES vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the RIVER NORTH ART DISTRICT long enough!

basics

full name : gabriele casper moretti

name meaning: god is my strength, treasure bearer, dark hair worker

nickname / alias: cas, the friendly ghost

gender / pronouns: non binary, he / they

sexuality: pansexual

age, birthday + zodiac: 31,

place of birth: newport, rhode island.

accent : denver. 

occupation: composer & jazz musician

song: everything i wanted by billie eilish

appearance

faceclaim: keiynan lonsdale

height: 5″10

eyecolor: green/hazel

haircolor: dark brown

build: lean, bordering skinny

tattoos / scars: large white scar on their right palm from a broken beer bottle, half sleeve on their left upper arm made up of small tattoos related to places they have been / lived.

personality

positive traits: humorous, good natured, sarcastic

negative traits: anxious, introverted, erratic

relationships

parents : carmen moretti ( mother, deceased ), angelo moretti ( father, deceased ) 

siblings : x moretti ( eldest sister ) , x moretti ( eldest brother ) , x moretti ( middle sister ) , x moretti ( twin sister )

children : none

pets : cat ( small / medium rescue puppy , mixed breeds )

history

part one

gabriele moretti is the final of the five moretti siblings to be born, barely two minutes after his twin sister but a whole fourteen years after the eldest had come into the world.

life is at first, positive. he remembers very little of the early years, just loving parents and a sister that formed the other half of him. but in a household with so many vying personalities, he felt small. unnoticeable. like if he kept quiet for long enough, they might forget he existed at all.

the desire to disappear is heightened further when their parents are lost. it's a sudden, crushing, grief. he is only eight and his world is turned upside down. he misses most the twenty minutes before bed when his mother would read them stories to help them fall asleep and he would feel the whole weight of her love, undivided. and his father's laugh that filled a room with mirth, that sent him into spirals of childish giggles, as if their bond could be founded on humour alone. when they are gone, a house that was so full of noise is silenced.

the remains of the siblings are moved to denver, to live with their aunt. he does what he is supposed to. goes to school, tries his best. but his mind is unlike most and he cannot concentrate, cannot focus. math, science, literature, they're frustratingly challenging. he is smart, he swears he is, but school makes him feel inept.

all apart from music class. it's the one class he holds out for each week, looks forward to. music just makes sense. it doesn't matter the instrument, he finds a way to learn it - figure out its quirks, how to find the path to the right sounds. he learns that when he has a voice, when he uses it, it's enjoyable.

when he is out of the shadow of his family, he forces on a personality - the class clown, the joker. he in part craves the attention, in another hides behind the mask it allows him to create. as the happy, wise-cracking, goofball nobody expects to him to have an ache in his chest that feels suffocating. nobody notices the way his hands shake whenever attention is turned to him, or the way he has to seek out a quiet isolated place to find calm again, to let it all swallow him whole.

part two

he makes it through school, just about scraping it by. he's promised himself he's not going to drop out ( for mom, for dad, though he's not sure they'd remark on it if they were still around ). and then his life can really begin, right ?? something about lakeview has always felt too enclosed, too limited, and at 18 with the world at his feet he takes off running.

he travels, anywhere, everywhere. ticking off continents, countries, cities. experiencing cultures that seem so much bigger than small town life. and he takes his guitar everywhere he goes ( though he prefers a piano, at times, it's a lot harder to attach to a backpack ).

he writes and composes music, tries different styles, but always ends up coming back to the music of his home - jazz. he moves to new york, manages to settle briefly, and even gets scouted while performing at a run down bar in queens. suddenly, he is thrown headfirst into the life of a professional musician. he gets studio time, works with a few big names, records an album - even gets the start of a tour booked.

all the while, gabriele feels that something is missing or doesn't quite add up. that the face he presents is still packaged up in the form that's most permissible but isn't true to who he really is. it's a friend in the industry that finally sits him down and helps him confront what he has been avoiding most. himself. or, perhaps more importantly, themself. he begins to explore the pronouns he finds most comfortable, learns about different terms and definitions and what that might mean for him. he dabbles in different clothes, different looks, trying to find who he is underneath years of avoidance.

gabriele is a ghost he decides; and therein lies the joke. if he is to be a ghost, he will be casper. the friendliest kind. at age 23, five years after leaving denver, gabriele in a short but sweet text to those that matter, makes the request to be called casper. there's little explanation given, he hopes he doesn't really ever have to. after all, running from the real shit is still his best skill.

casper gets rebranded ( despite a bit of uproar from their label ) but it leads to greater success. their fans, old and new, like the intrigue and the heart it gives to their music. the booked tour leads them around the u.s. before taking them of all places, to mardis gras.

it's on a float shaped like a sinking ship ( yeah, prophetic irony or what ) that their anxiety gets the best of them. a panic attack results in the utter butchery of 'what a wonderful world' and casper bolting from the parade. with nothing but embarrassment shaping their career, they bolt from louisiana and head on the next tour stop as soon as possible.

part three

living their life on tour, half settling in cities all over, begins to chafe. and they find themselves yearning for something unexpected - home. after all this time, casper decides to relocate back to denver.

they start of fairly non-committal, couch surfing from friends and families homes for a month or so. but then they reconnect with a girl they once knew, a few dates leads to exclusivity and suddenly casper has a girlfriend. one that, for once, they're not expecting to end things with. so why not try to stick it out ??

a room in an apartment becomes available, a few other people - some that he even grew up with - and he jumps at the chance. these are roots in as much as casper is capable.

seven months later and here they still are. they work from home, writing and composing new music - their label is expecting something good, something to push their sound into the mainstream - and to pay the rent they perform at pandora's box with friday nights being their regular slot.

wanted connections

current girlfriend childhood best friend/will they won't they

[fixtionvixen]

As a girl of the 90s, a lot of my favorite movies have never had the endings adult me craves. The 30 years later view where everyone is still together and the dogs still alive and we all are stupid happy. Watching Casper the other night led me down a path, wishing we could have the scene we all wanted. Casper as an adult, alive and well, with Kat in the big mansion and content to live out their days! I don't know that we will get there (or even if we did in some weird sequel I'm oblivious about existing) so I decided to do it myself. Happy Halloween you ghosts with the most!

Looking out across the dark sea of trees, Kat Harvey feels her bones ache. With fatigue, with the cold weather, with nostalgia and sadness. The mansion that her and her father moved into almost 30 years ago was still standing, just as she had left it when she went to college. Nothing really changed with it, the cobwebs still clung to the tall corners, it still smelled like earth and time, and the pictures hanging on the walls still boasted faces only the ghosts inside had seen.

Her father, James, still visited from time to time, smiling oddly at sections of the house where a part of their lives became a memory for him to look over later, playing out in his memory like a movie. Kat would look as well, expecting the scene to be real in front of her, almost real enough to touch. But after that night, 28 years ago today, she knew better than to believe anything stayed real for long. She still walks through the entryway and looks up, picturing her first kiss with him. The way the room fell away and her heart shimmered like snow on a sunny day. Her teenage heart was not prepared for the wrenching of emotions and the shocks of that day, to find out her dad was dead and brought back and the ghost she was slowly developing a crush on to become flesh. But November 1st, she woke with a quick rush, throwing her blankets aside and rushing out to the hall, only to find the mansion empty and hollow.

Searching room after room, it seemed the only things left in the house were... still living. No uncles. No laughter. No antics. Just creaky boards and rattling window glass. For years following, every halloween her and dad would dig out candles, bring out ouiji boards, do everything in their power to connect to the other side, to find their friends and ask what happened. Did they find what they needed to cross? Did they just leave and go someplace else? It's answers that never found a resolution and only left them with melted wax and a sad sense of abandonment.

So they did what they'd always done. James stayed there, leaving to chase down ghosts and dreams but always returning to the haunted mansion where Kat stayed, dreaming of a blonde haired boy who swept her off her feet. The older she got, the more in depth those dreams became. What was a dance and a kiss became a drawn out daydream where he came back, not as a ghost, but as a grown man. Where they could spend their time as they wanted, making her teenage heart sing and her young adult feelings something more tangible, something she could grab hold of. But she knew, these were only the desperate wishes of a lonely girl, who's best friend was a ghost until he was gone.

Sighing, she turns away from the window where she let her thoughts run free within the past, only to turn back as the flash of lights cut through the sky and into the window, startling her with their shine. She watches as a lone car, looking to be older than her, turns up the winding road to the mansion, sinking into the pot holes they've filled repeatedly and aways return, until it rumbles to a stop at her front steps, running idly as the driver sits unmoving from the car. She moves from the window, heading to the staircase, ears straining always to hear the slight giggles of her friendly ghost but only hearing her breaths as she hurries down the stairs to the door. Taking a few deep breaths upon reaching the doors, she prepares for everyone it could be. A lost traveler looking for directions. A murderer out to kill the lonely lady in the mansion. A friend from her school who knows she's back and decided to drive out to say hello. A client looking to see if she's followed in her father's footsteps (she has, somewhat, as a Professor of History that specializes in the Occult). But ghost stalking was for her father. Which is why it feels odd that as the car turns off on the other side of the doors and a car door shuts, the house seems to let out a sigh of contentment. As if the other side was relieved somehow.

With that weird feeling pushed aside, she swings open the door, greeting whoever is on the other side with a swift leave and never come back look, only to have the breath stolen from her lungs and her face to sink into utter shock. The man standing before her, hand raised to knock and similar shock on his face, seemed to her a distant memory, someone's she's seen across a room and kept in her mind or a man she swiped across on a dating app. Only he seemed.... more familiar. More like someone she had met. His wind tousled blonde locks fall across his face, cutting paths through the searing blue eyes staring into her brown ones. His appearance seemed relaxed, but the squint of his eyes and the tense stretch of his shoulders hunched forward as if against the cold portrayed a deeper reason he was on her doorstep.

Before she could open her mouth to ask for an answer, he stepped into the frame out of the cold, looking past her into the house and muttering to himself. Shocked, she swings the door into him, closing it almost onto his nose but leaving it cracked for them to converse.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

He squints at her, clearly debating what route to go, barge in and murder her or convince her nice side to let him in out of the elements. Deciding on the second, she assumes, he steps back with his hands raised and begins his explanation with the statement, "Hi. I'm Jasper... You'll think I'm crazy...."

She huffs out a laugh, the words on the tip of her tongue that she befriended a ghost and crazy is a relative term, when he finishes his sentence saying, "..... but I think I died here."

......................................................................

The candle light flickers against the wall, complimenting the crackle of the fireplace in the study. Kats gaze does not waver from his pacing figure cutting across the rug with determined steps, as if being in motion will keep the questions at bay. After a brief battle of wills at the door, she had let him in and he hoped she wasn't planning to murder him for making one odd move that she isnt anticipating. She sighs, crossing her legs and trying to look like the authority figure she can be in front of a class, only this times she's not in a skirt and Oxfords but in holey sweatpants and house slippers complete with bunny ears and a missing eye. He hesitates, brain flying at a speed he cannot himself stop, knowing she is at the end of her patience with what must be a mad man in her house. A house he can all to clearly remember being a part of. Somehow saying that out loud will make it all the more real. But he is here now. He's made the choice to follow his inner thoughts and see where they lead. He just never thought that they'd lead him to her, messy hair that he wants to touch or the dainty, too polite smile on her face he can almost taste, and the visions of white dresses and dancing with her that seem to fill his vision.

As she braces her hands on the arm of the chair, prepared to launch herself forward to demand answers, he abruptly stops his pacing, eyes staring at the photos along the mantle. "The man in these photos, it's your father yes? A doctor of sorts... the commercials seem ages ago but I recall being as entranced then by his face as I find myself now." He turns to face her, sadly smiling at the tense way she holds herself on the couch, as if bracing for his insanity to peak and he launch himself at her.

He slowly makes his way towards the chair near her, not wanting to startle but ease her mind. He sits relaxed, staring into the flames, ready to begin his thoughts.

"I mentioned before that you'll think me crazy. And you just might. But I again implore you to hear me out. Let me purge myself of these memories and only once I'm done do I ask that then you decide what my problem is." He notices the curve of her mouth from the corner of his eye, glancing over to see it disappear and her to nod in his direction, giving him leeway to begin. He sighs, looking back into the flames, and sums up the last 30 years in as little words as he can.

"When I was a boy, my parents were never really home. We grew up a middle class, both parents working, always just enough to get by but never enough to be comfortable. But one summer, they took me to see a baseball game, the Brooklyn Dodgers. Now I was a kid, so the fact that there was $1 hot dogs was more interesting to me than the game. But we sat and ate and the sun seemed to make every blade of grass shiny. And two rows down sat a man with a jersey on that said Snyder. And to this day, my parents don't know how or where or why, but I was immediately upset that someone, somewhere, had my treasure. They consoled me, they tried talking to me, anything to figure out what I was wailing about. We had to leave the game I was so distraught. I cried myself to sleep in the back of the car, waking up later after dreaming of it. No pirate booty or piles of gold were my treasure. No. I was adamant I owned an autographed baseball signed by Duke Snyder from the Brooklyn Dodgers. It's all I talked about for days. I can still feel the joy of getting that ball for Christmas! But then I remember hiding it, taking care to put my ball and mitt in a chest so I could make sure no one could take my treasure.

After that, other things came back to me. The feeling of my lungs tightening late at night, every winter when the temperatures sunk below freezing. My hesitancy in participating in snow day activities, no matter how my friends begged or my parents pleaded for me to just get outside. Then I remembered people I no longer was around. Parents that didn't look like mine and a father who seemed always stressed and working. Uncles that were rough and loud and always nearby. A nice man who brought his daughter who became my friend. But then it all stops. I don't know anything of after. I've spent years researching and going to hypnosis and digging through archives, hell I even went to see a psychic to figure this out. And all things point to a very strong soul in reincarnation.

Which, as a Professor, I'm sure you can hear how ridiculous this all sounds. And I agree! I could almost convince myself I was going insane. Some childhood trauma I repressed had led me to having memories that were not my own. To having personality tendencies that felt like my own yet they were not. I fought it, I ignored it, until I finally just gave in. And upon doing that, it was as if I gave the universe the go ahead to lead me where it wanted. Outside of Tennessee, I found a psychic who could read past lives. Never one to believe but willing to follow my gut feeling, I went to her and was immediately overcome by this feeling of... happiness. She opened the door and immediately smiled, nodding to the center of my chest and saying, 'your soul is on a long journey isn't it.' She brought me in and explained her theory, reincarnation, and how my soul was given an opportunity to cross over many years ago but did not take it. And upon doing a great deed, was given the opportunity again but with a promise... that he'd be reunited with his friend one day. And that journey, well, it led me here."

He looks over at her, never brave enough the entire story to do so, only to find her face tear streaked and her body relaxed back into the chair, eyes watery and lips smiling, staring back at him as if she had only been waiting for this moment, for him to end the story and finally confess what the psychic told him months ago about the soul he keeps safe. He swallows thickly, gathering courage that she won't think him crazy or throw him out, and propels himself forward, out of the chair to squat beside her seat, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle her hair and to smell her perfume. Her eyes go wide as she opens her mouth to ask the questions she has to have, when he shakes his head no to stop her. He takes a deep breath, relying on the advice of someone else to help him finally solve this puzzle, and says the last thing she told him, the phrase to help him find where he belongs. "Can I keep you?"